


Prize of war

by likingthistoomuch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot, Plot somewhere out there if you squint, Porn, Sherlock is the king, ancient au, smut ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likingthistoomuch/pseuds/likingthistoomuch
Summary: Sherlock is the King, Molly is the healer's assistant. You get the drift.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. My first attempt at writing smut, apologies in advance.

Sherlock strode into the healer’s tent, his battle armour clanging against his sword. At the king’s sudden entry the people in the tent, including the women, stared at him in disbelief before remembering to courtesy. The women hurriedly covered their faces, specially the healer’s assistants, the orphans donated to the art of medicine.

Sherlock paused for a second before approaching the woman closest to the royal healer.

“I go to war with no certainty of returning. And so, following traditions, I chooseyou.”

“Your Highness-”the healer tried to interrupt.

“IF I WANTED TO SPEAK TO ANYONE ELSE I WOULD HAVE ADDRESSED YOU,” the King’s voice thundered.

There was a pin drop silence as the King selected the war sacrifice to the Gods.

“Do you believe in this…this ritual?” There was no doubt as to how much the King believed in it himself, but him asking the selected sacrifice the question seemed almost blasphemous. And the gathering was further mortified when the female shook her head.

“I do not believe in this, but if this belief makes men fight better and bring victory for us, I would happily lay my life down for our kingdom.”

The crowd gasped at the impudent response, expecting the King to raise his sword and behead the woman. And yet.

Sherlock then moved closer and actually removed her head scarf. Looking into those brown eyes that had fascinated him since he saw her tending after his wound, finding his assumption of intelligence being correct, he actually smiled.

“Neither do I. But I do believe in fighting for my kingdom, as well as for the promise of something good awaiting me here. Make no mistake maiden, I willreturn victorious and we will meet again, probably in celebratory circumstances. But meet we will.”

Laying a kiss on her hand, the King strode out to gain an improbable victory, first of his many, as he now had someone to come back for.

 

* * *

 

 

The bathing tent was ready, awaiting the victorious king’s return. The water was hot, filled with oils and herbs that would help in alleviating the pain and aches of his body. Torches lit interiors, their flickering flames throwing dancing patters on the satin curtains, scented candles spreading their soothing aroma.

When Sherlock entered, the royal healer and his assistants rushed to remove his armour and check for injuries. Wounds cleaned up, he then stepped into the hot bath. As the others made to leave, he quietly uttered a command, his eyes shut as he savoured the feeling of the fragrant bath.

“Stay. You know whom I address.”

She looked towards the healer, who nodded once and led the way out for the rest of them.

He could hear her take a deep breath before she approached the inner chamber, standing just outside the gossamer partition around his bath.

His eyes still shut he moved the curtain and offered her his hand. After a pause, he felt a small hand being placed in his, the slight tremor betraying her nerves. Her hands were calloused, clearly marking her as someone who worked with them. His finger on her pulse showed that it was racing.

He tugged on her hand, bringing her within the curtained cocoon and finally opening his eyes as she sat on the edge of the sunken bath. Her face was still covered and her eyes were staring at her feet. He reached up and pulled at the tucked drape, exposing her face. She still refused to look at him.

“What do they call you,” he asked, his voice sounding even deeper.

“Malia,” she replied.

He whispered her name, liking the feel of it as it rolled inside his mouth.

“Will you help me Malia? I cant reach my back.”

Nodding, she took the thick cloth and sat on the edge behind him, leaning to rub his broad shoulders and back. He heard her breath hitch as the marks on his back became clear. They were the scars of battles he had won, and he wore them proudly. Her unsteady breath also made it clear that she was affected by the sheer physicality on display, something he played on by flexing the back muscles on one side and then another.

“If you lean any further, you might just fall inside. I would prefer if you step into the bath instead of falling and bumping your head,” a small smirk playing on his lips.

She paused then gathered her robes, tucking them into her sash and revealing her knees.

“You wouldn’t want to walk out in wet clothes in this harsh weather,” he gently yet firmly chidded.

When she still hesitated, he reached out and pulled at the sash holding her outfit together. The layers of cloth covering her gathered by her feet, only the band around her chest and her loin cloth protecting her modesty. She still refused to look up at him, her gaze towards her feet steady but unembarrassed.

Pulling her by the hand into the bath, he felt himself harden as he gazed on that hard, real female body. It wasn’t perfect; her shoulders and arms were strong instead of willowy, her thighs solid and shaped by the hard life she had lived. There were small scars, some injuries, even an old burn mark. It was the most real female body he had seen and it filled him with awe and a kind of want he had never experienced.

She sat in front of him, her chest bind now transparent due to the water. He reached and slowly undid her hair, enjoying each and every thick strand as it fell from the severe bun all the healers wore. It wasn’t the softest, it smelled like trees and the wind and of distant battle. Of balms and pastes prepared from fresh leaves and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her close and burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

She was trembling, but the gasp that escaped her when he nuzzled her neck and lightly bit her indicated that it wasn’t all nerves. Her hands instinctively grabbed at his arms, her forehead on his shoulder. He kissed her delectable neck again, moving upwards towards her jaw and then kissing the corner of her lips. It was then that she finally looked up at him. Her eyes were dark, a dangerous mix of nerves and lust. It was all he could do to keep him from taking her right there in the bath.

So he kissed her instead. What started as a gentle kiss became harder, with him thrusting his tongue in her mouth and ravaging her with his lips. He moved her so she straddled him, her hands now in his hair pulling at his head as she kissed him back with a new abandon.

He was rock hard now, and as he thrust against her core she gasped, hugging him and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He thrust against her again, causing her to moan.

It was the sound of that moan that did it. He stood up in his bath and stepped out, all in his naked glory and quickly mopped his soaking body before turning to the kneeling woman. Nodding that she stand, he then covered her with the same towel and picking her up, strode to the bed prepared just outside the bath.

Putting her down on the bed, he drew the towel from her and threw it away. Impatient with knots, he just tore the chest bind between her breasts and dove to take one taut nipple in his mouth.

Malia arched her back, the sensation new and so right. She held his head as he suckled and laved the nipple before turning his attention to the other. While she writhed under his ministrations, Sherlock swiftly untied the loin cloth revealing all of her to his hungry eyes.

And his gaze devoured her as he paused to take in her pliant form. As he moved to kiss her again he rubbed himself against her core, relishing the wet and hot sensation.

She was moaning and writhing by now, his hands and mouth working her towards an unbearable tension in her lower belly. He then moved a hand to her wet centre, gently tracing all her folds and rubbing the hardened nub of pleasure. Malia’s grip in his hair almost became painful, her moans now louder in volume. It further enticed him to travel lower, to dip his head and taste her womanhood with her gasps further encouraging him.

Inserting one and then two fingers inside her, he almost had her scream when he bent the fingers just so and sucked at the hardened nub at the same time. Her grip now erratic, he knew she was close.

“Let me see you reach the crest, you beautiful creature. Let me see you fall over.”

He then gently pressed on the nub with his thumb and watched her as she came apart, he mouth wide open but making no noise, her eyes screwed shut and her hands almost tearing the sheets. Withdrawing his fingers and pausing as he let her enjoy the afterglow, Sherlock knew she was trouble when she pulled him up and kissed him hard. She moaned again when she felt his hard cock, now almost leaking.

He hissed out his pleasure as she reached down and held his hard member, moving her hand up and down. Rolling them so that she was now straddling him, she gently rubbed her centre against him as his again sucked at her delectable breasts. As she slowly started rocking against him, her breath coming in erratic gasps, Sherlock knew she was ready for him. Rolling them again, he had her under him and stared into her eyes.

“This may hurt a little.”

As she smiled and nodded back at him, it was all he could do not to rut into her fiercely. Holding her gaze her placed the tip of his leaking member by her entrance and slowly pushed. She gasped out in pleasure, holding his shoulders tight. He slowly entered her further till he felt a slight resistance. Sucking at her breast again, he had her moaning when he thrust into her entirely and remained still. She had gasped in pain, her eyes shut and lips pursed as the initial burn receded.

She had then gently moved against him, giving him the indication he needed. Thrusting into her slowly and then increasing his pace, Sherlock was fast losing himself into her. Moving against her to provide the necessary friction, in no time he had her moaning for more. Getting her closer and closer, he then put a hand between them and pressed her nub again, this time eliciting a scream as she reached her pleasure. Barely reining himself in, he let her savour the feeling for a while before he started moving again.

She was hot and wet and tight and making those sounds as her fingers moved in his hair. It was not long before he suddenly stiffened, screwing his eyes shut with pleasure and emptying his seed into her womb. Later, rolling off her, he lay on his back trying to catch his breath for a while before pulling her into his embrace and bestowing a scorching kiss on her kiss swollen lips.

“You will move to the royal chamber immediately. You will now live with me, will let me pleasure and treasure your body. You will give me children and by the light of the next full moon, you will be my queen.”

He knew there were very few gains to waging a war, but with this woman he had found his biggest gift so far.


End file.
